


Remembering Me, Remembering You

by derekstilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Amnesia, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Sexual Content, Slight Violence, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was in an accident and has been at the Beacon Hills Long-Term Care hospital for almost a year. He doesn’t remember anything. But there’s an odd, quirky boy that has been there since day one for him… even though he’s a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering Me, Remembering You

A lunch tray goes flying into the hall, just missing Stiles’ head as he walks by. He flinches anyway, ducking with his arms shielded over his head. He hears a growl, a cry, the sound of a body part banging against the wall. He walks cautiously in, a nurse cowering in the corner. _New girl_ , Stiles thinks. He beckons her close, out the door and she staggers away. He moves his attention, eyes searching for him. He spots him on the floor in the corner, knees tucked to his chest and head in his hands. He’s breathing hard and shaking not as violently as the last time.

“Derek.” Stiles sighs in concern and throws the paper bag along with his backpack down on the bed, getting over to him and kneeling down. He sets a hand on his knee and the guy convulses, darting away as if Stiles stuck a lighter to him. The wall wouldn’t give for him though, wouldn’t hug him and swallow him up, leaving him to press harder against it in fear. Stiles takes his wrists and pulls his hands away, a broken look on that handsome face.

“Stiles, go. It’s not safe.” He says in a rush, getting a socked foot on Stiles’ knee and pushing. The floor is a slippery clean and he slides a few inches.

“It’s okay, Derek. I’m gonna stay.” Stiles tells him, rubbing his thumbs against the sensitive undersides of Derek’s wrists, over the veins. He can feel his pulse thundering there. Derek looks to be in pain, jaw set with clenched teeth, trying to take deep breaths.

“No,” He grits out and lays in his head back against the wall, eyebrows knitting together as his hands squeeze into fists, then relax again. There’s a nurse in the doorway, in front of the new one that witnessed Derek’s outburst. The poor girl’s trembling as she peeks over the male nurses’ shoulder. Derek shuts his eyes tight and grunts painfully. “Stiles, my eyes.”

“Are they red again? Blue? …Maybe purple? You know I like the color purple.” Stiles responds with a bit of a distraction tactic and lets go of Derek’s wrists, going to hold his face. He shoots a glare at the nurses as they start to inch into the room. They back away. Derek slams his head against the wall and Stiles’ attention is back on him, getting close and cradling his head, bringing his face to hide in his chest. “It’s okay, y’know. It’s just the weekend after the full moon, things will die down and you’ll be okay.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” The female nurse asks in a voice that tries hush but it doesn’t work. Derek’s head is tilted and he’s listening as he breathes hard. Stiles sighs.

“It’s the weekend after a full moon and he’s having a tough time! You try going from Beta to Alpha and see how much of a walk in a full-mooned park that is.” Stiles snaps at her just to remind Derek he’s on his side.

“Stiles.” Derek says weakly, settling a hand on his chest after checking to make sure he had no claws. His voice is innocent, calming down, “It’s okay. She didn’t know.”

“Still.”

“I know, I almost shifted. But it’s alright.”

“And that’s why I’m staying for a while.” Stiles runs a hand through Derek’s dark hair and squeezes his shoulders and head a little before getting up. He helps his tall friend up from the floor and walks him over to the bed that Stiles wishes was more comfortable. Derek tosses and turns in his sleep.

“God, I’m glad you’re my best friend.” Derek smiles softly at him. Oh, it took him weeks to get his first smile out of Derek, another two before Stiles was let explain that they were friends and how they knew each other. After that, he could sit next to the bed. He’d been confined to the other side of the room because Derek said he didn’t trust him, didn’t think it would be wise in case he started to shift. It took another month before he was allowed to touch Derek. Stiles smiles sadly and nods.

“I’m glad, too. You’d be shit without me.” He jokes to cover up the emotions stirring, closing up his chest. He’s happy the nurses are gone. Derek climbs into bed which is bent up so he can sit. “I brought you some stuff.”

“Really?” He looks to the walls where some of Stiles’ art projects are pinned up with tape. Stiles had whined about it, thought they should be taken down because Laura’s were better, since she was in a professional art class in college and he was only doing high school arts and crafts for grades. The ones Stiles liked made it on the wall. Derek likes all of them.

The smell of a cheese burger hits him and his mouth waters instantly. Stiles is holding one out to him with a knowing smirk and he grins at him, taking it. “Thanks.” He opens the wrapper and takes a bite. It’s just the way he likes his burgers.

“That’s not the only thing.” Stiles looks excited, just on that side of anxious that makes Derek’s heart do something funny that he doesn’t have a name for. He opens his backpack and reaches in, tugging out a dark leather jacket. Derek’s leather jacket. “I had it fixed.”

There used to be a rip in the shoulder, since Derek’s last shift. Stiles knows it split when he tried to run from the hospital during a full moon and one of the security guards caught him. Derek’s eyes light up and a smile breaks out. He takes it and immediately slips it on. Stiles moves closer and fixes the collar the way he knows Derek likes. The taller teen lets him in close. He’s safe with Stiles. He inhales, thinking he’ll find a freshly cleaned scent. And it’s there, but it’s dull. There’s something else.

“It smells like you.” He says softly and color stains his best friend’s cheeks, the apples and down across his cheekbones. He feels Stiles’ fingers swiping against his neck as they slow.

“Sorry. I may have worn it—Y-You know, to see if the restitching would hold. And it does, so that’s… awesome.” The kid says awkwardly, eyes tracing over Derek’s face before his blush flares and he looks at the floor, steps away.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s fine.” He promises and grabs for Stiles’ hand, twining a finger between Stiles’ middle and ring ones so he can’t pull away. He settles his thumb between the index and middle fingers’ knuckles, Stiles’ ADHD making his hand shake a little.

It’s not Stiles’ ADHD. It’s Derek’s hand. It’d been so long since they held hands and Derek was awake for it. Since Derek was the one who initiated it. Today’s been stressful and this just shakes all his nerves, all his emotions. It’s always emotional when he sees Derek now, though.

“Hey… Stiles, don’t cry. Stiles.” Derek’s concerned, _of course he is_ , and Stiles doesn’t want to cry. He really doesn’t but his eyes are welling up and he swears openly at himself before tugging his hand away, wiping his eyes. The taller teen’s eyes are watching him, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—I just…” He grabs for a reason other than the real one. _Because you were caught in a forest fire and you inhaled the smoke and stopped breathing and almost died and you think you’re a werewolf and I love you more than life itself and you don’t even remember._ He keeps back a sob. This happens every other time but he’s usually safe out of the room and in his car. “Y-You just look so much cooler than me now, in that damn jacket.”

Derek chuckles because it’s a stupid reason, but pulls Stiles in for a hug. Stiles clings. He desperately wants a kiss, wants to take Derek home, wants him to remember what they are. Wants him to remember everything. Derek rubs his back but the end of Stiles’ flannel catches and suddenly he’s touching skin, dragging his hand up his back and Stiles _freezes_. His hands stills and he’s about to open his mouth and apologize when he hears a sigh against his hair and the kid relaxes. Derek stores it to memory as ‘things that get him to calm down’ and also ‘things that feel good’. He doesn’t know why it feels good, but it does.

His voice is soft, so soft just for him. It’s another thing in his list of things that calm Stiles when he’s upset. He bets he could lull him to sleep with this tone and he has an urge to confirm it. “Hey… Did you bring me anymore art? A new picture of you at lacrosse?”

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles sniffles and pulls away. Derek’s hand has stopped and it feels like a brand on his lower back. It’s comforting but it might make him get too comfortable, do something that Derek doesn’t want. That he doesn’t _remember_ wanting. “Lydia gave me a few more pictures that she took.” He grabs into his bag and pulls four out. There’s one of Stiles and Scott in their gear, one of Danny who had Stiles in a headlock with Jackson photo bombing and sporting a hilariously stupid face during last week’s practice, and one with Lydia and Allison, pretending to beat Stiles with his own lacrosse stick. They make Derek chuckle and Stiles’ heart soars.

There’s one in his hand, one he hasn’t given yet. He doesn’t know if he should. Lydia had found it on one of her old external hard drives and Stiles had broken down and cried in the middle of her room when he’d seen it. But it was of a happier time and wasn’t that suggestive to anything. So, the girls told him to take it to Derek.

The taller teen smiles at the photos and makes a note to ask for some more tape. He sets them down next to him and moves his gaze back up to Stiles, who’s hands are shaking violently now, eyes a little red. He bypasses the state he’s in because it’s clear Stiles is trying to hide it and instead asks “What’s that one? Lemme see.”

He’s so reluctant to give it up. He has one at home but this means Derek will have one, too. Derek will have a memory of them that was more than friend-like. A memory of _them_. But when Derek reaches out his hands, one taking the photo, other gripping softly at Stiles’ wrist in incentive to let it go, he gives in.

“I-It’s not me at lacrosse, but… Yeah.” He tries to shrug but Derek’s not looking at him anymore. He’s looking at the picture of them, at a party at Danny’s house before the accident. Them sitting on a couch way too close to be friends and Derek’s arm was wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders, hand splayed protectively on his chest. They were both holding drinks and smiling at the camera, but Stiles’ free hand was—Shit, it’s on Derek’s thigh because they’d just been kissing and Stiles’ blush is visible in the photo. He has one now to match it and considers taking the photo back and shoving it into his jeans and running away.

“It’s us.” Derek says simply and all the words about to leave Stiles’ mouth to explain dive back down his throat and hide in the pit of his stomach, where he’s feeling queasy. He nods dumbly. “Where was this?”

It takes him a moment, but he finally spits out “Danny’s house.”

“Yeah.” He agrees even though he can’t remember, but there’s an almost memory, thinks it’s his Alpha senses trying get scour his mind for it. He comes up with something fighting to break to the surface. But it doesn’t and all he’s left with is his heart doing that odd flutter again and looking up to see a matching blush on Stiles’ cheeks. He doesn’t let his confusion show, “You were wearing my jacket.”

Stiles lets out a nervous but relieved laugh. He nods, “Oh yeah. You used to let me wear it.”

“A lot?”

“U-Uh, yeah. A lot.”

Derek smiles at him like he used to when he stutters. Stiles would usually stop it with a kiss. He just smiles back now and moves his stuff aside, sitting on the bed. He should have brought Derek a blanket from home. It would probably get him through the nights better. But Derek settles in anyway, almost used to it, and picks up his burger as he sets the photo down.

“When I’m done I’ll change out that picture for this one.” He gestures to the one in the frame of him, Laura, Stiles and Scott that his uncle Peter took at Scott’s birthday last year. He doesn’t remember it, but he’s told it was fun. Stiles shakes his head.

“No! No, you don’t have to do that. It’s not frame-worthy.” Stiles says because he honestly thinks a picture of Laura, who he’s accepted as his big sister, would be better to explain than some kid that he can’t remember is completely in love with him. Stiles doesn’t think he can handle Derek calling him just a friend for much longer. Sure, he’ll deal with it, but it’ll tear him apart inside.

Derek finishes his burger and balls up the wrapper, tossing it into the trashcan across the room. “I want to put it in the frame. It’s very… frame-worthy. Scott’ll understand.”

Stiles just watches as he grabs the frame and takes the photo out, replacing it with the one of them. He feels pride for a moment, knowing Derek loved to be out in the open with their relationship. Derek would hold his hand in public and kiss him hello in the parking lot of school when he picked him up. He’d take him on dates after asking his Dad. God, the day Stiles introduced Derek as his boyfriend, his father had completely interrogated Derek, did a background check on him at the station. Stiles doesn’t realize he’s smiling until there’s a hand settling on his knee.

“You like that, huh?”

“…What?” He shakes his head to come back, looking at the other teen’s blue-green eyes.

“I said I’m tired. That I wanted to lay down. And then you smile like an idiot.” But Derek’s smiling too and it gets wider when Stiles’ cheeks tint. He chuckles, “What? You wanna snuggle in with me, get my jacket over you again?”

“I—You, You want me to?” He asks because he wants to know if it’s a real possibility, even if Derek only thinks it’s comfort because he’s dealing with his werewolf stuff. He’s gotten a bit desperate, he’ll admit that. But his mind is screaming at Derek, begging him and he’s trying not to let it bubble up in his throat. He cannot let it out.

Derek chuckles because yeah, it sounded weird, but so did he. He nods though, shrugs off his jacket and moves the pictures to the table. He sets the frame back up and turns it so it’s visible to everyone who walks in, but also to him if he’s laying down. Stiles tries not to think about why he would want to see it when he’s in bed, his heart beating fast in his chest.

When Derek starts to lay down, Stiles dumps his backpack onto the floor and ignores the pens and History book that slide out, scrambling to move around and cover him up. Then he realizes Derek _did_ nod. It stills him for a moment but Derek rolls his eyes and beckons him with a hand. “Come on, dude. I can already feel myself drifting off.”

Stiles gets in the bed and Derek tosses the blanket over them and they’re right face to face. Stiles can feel his breath puff across his face and all of his body heat. The bed is small and they’re inches apart and Stiles doesn’t know if he’s going to wrap his arm around Derek or curl up in a ball and sob until there’s nothing left. Derek’s arm slides around his middle and he shudders, scoots closer. He’s right up against his chest and for some reason he’s not getting pushed away, but pulled closer and he swears he can feel lips at his hairline.

There’s a nurse at the door but he’s not listening to her because he can hear Derek’s heartbeat and everything feels right with the world for a moment. He catches the last of a sentence from the taller teen’s mouth, “…let me be alone with him. Mates are important.”

Stiles stops himself from convulsing and Derek’s lips _are_ touching him, to his forehead. The nurse swiftly leaves the doorway and Derek’s soft laugh rumbles in his chest. There’s a tornado of emotion and Stiles peeks up at him, not knowing what his face is giving away.

“She thinks you’re my mate now. She’ll leave me alone and won’t keep asking why you come around so much.” Derek rubs his side but doesn’t take his hand off him. Stiles swallows.

“Mate? Like, a werewolf thing, right?”

“Yeah… Don’t look like a wounded puppy… Is that weird? If it’s weird I can—”

“No! It’s great, it’s good, I like it.” Stiles is sputtering over his words and trying so hard not to sound stupid or give all his feelings away or smash his lips against Derek’s. It’s been too stressful today. He can’t do this. He can feel a panic attack festering somewhere deep in his stomach and he gasps in air with a horrified expression before he keeps going. “I-I mean, not that I like it. _Well_ —No, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with—It’s just, even though _I’m_ … I-I, Derek, it’s—”

Derek’s hand is clasping over his mouth, long fingers holding part of his jaw and cheek, palm warm pressed against his lips. He’s having trouble breathing but he doesn’t want him to move. “Stiles, calm down. You’re really… Well, anxious. Did you take your medicine today? Wanna talk about what’s wrong?”

He just breathes in deep and has wide eyes, wanting to wet his lips but he’ll catch Derek’s hand. The taller teen nods slowly at the breath, encouraging another, moving his hand away and cradling the side of Stiles’ face. _Oh, please, it’s too much when you do this._ Stiles takes shaky breaths, willing himself not to cry again. Derek tries again, “You take your meds?”

Stiles nods a little.

“Talk about what’s wrong? How was school?”

It feels wrong with Derek coaching him to be okay when Derek’s the one in the hospital. But Stiles has _all_ the memories and a boyfriend with not one.

He sniffles, “Coach keeps yelling at me, more than usual. And I got a C-minus in Chem on that big test I was telling you about. Stuff’s happening.”

“What stuff?”

“It’s just… difficult. I feel l-like… like I’m straining because I don’t know what to do. It’s gotten so much worse this week.” It really had been getting worse. Yesterday his father had to hold him because he was shaking so hard, waking up from a nightmare that Derek didn’t make it, that he was never able to touch him or talk to him again. It scared him so much because this is how it is, just on a lesser scale. He can’t kiss him anymore, can’t talk freely, can’t take him home and make love to him. He doesn’t even know if Derek knows he’s gay. He’s afraid to tell him because they’ve made a good friendship and Stiles is terrified of being rejected by him.

Derek’s face goes from worried to something even more soft and Stiles’ heart clenches painfully. He can’t even look at him. He buries his face in his chest and holds back a sob that hurts his throat. Derek rubs his back. “Dude, I’m so sorry. I wish they’d let me outta here, I’d come to school with you and everything. I could be your bodyguard, make sure you felt okay all day.”

That’s a punch to the chest. He feels like he’s suffocating. He’s just so _Derek_ , like he remembers. Like he’s going to tell him he loves him and he’s going to keep him safe. Like he’s going to dip down and kiss him any minute now. But the doctors told him before he came down the hall today that the therapist who sees the older teen has made no progress in getting back Derek’s memory.

“What—” He croaks but it dies out and he clears his throat and tries again, “What would you do i-if you kept a secret from someone because they didn’t remember. Like they were drunk or uh, whatever. Would you tell them?”

“Is it important?”

“Cosmically important.”

Derek takes a few moments. Stiles is shivering and so close, and there’s another almost memory; just a feeling. An ache. Right in his chest. He doesn’t know why but he drops his head onto Stiles’ and nuzzles his hair with his cheekbone. There’s this feeling that he should understand, but it doesn’t register. _Can’t_ register. He doesn’t tell his therapist about these. He’ll ask questions and Derek has no answers. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

Stiles laughs. It’s not humorous, doesn’t sound humorous. Broken, sob-like and Stiles doesn’t know anything anymore. Derek growls at him lowly, an _I know we’ve been over this_. But there’s always something extra that Derek feels nagging at him. “I mean, God I’ve never told anyone this before… It’s like, I don’t remember something, but I do. Like there’s something missing, something I haven’t been told. Maybe everyone else has forgotten. I-I don’t know. Things happen. Separate from the shifts, it’s just weird.”

“Y-You remember something?” Stiles looks up at him in pure shock because, _holy shit_ , Derek just said he might have remembered something. Hope surges through Stiles but it’s quickly stomped on.

“No.” Derek sighs, rethinks it, and then rethinks it again. “It’s like there’s this… this big, fucking hilarious secret that the universe is keeping from me, poking me with it but it won’t break through. It’s like I need to weaken up the wall to remember, but I don’t know how.”

Stiles’ father said the trees came down like a wall around Derek from when the police assessed the scene, so he couldn’t get out; trapped to die. Stiles’ brain was reeling immediately. Derek had never been back to the woods, he’d never gone to his home with his sister and uncle, he’d never gone to Stiles’ again. The doctors thought the trauma would severely hurt him and moved him to the long-term care hospital after his wounds had healed. After he’d woken up from his comatose state. Then Derek had come to believe he was a werewolf, with the fits of violence, fits of mania, stages of rage because he didn’t remember anything. And every time, the hospital would call someone in; Peter, Laura, Stiles. Sometimes even Scott and Stiles’ father. Derek started wanting only Stiles to come and explain.

“I can’t catch it, Stiles. And it pisses me off to no end. It’s like something wants me miserable, y’know? Like I can’t have it even though I want it.” He can tell Derek’s upset and he isn’t fairing any better. Because he _knows_. Knows the feeling, knows the answer. He didn’t know he’d hurt Derek this much by keeping it, and now he feels like an asshole. He openly sobs and covers his face with his hands, not knowing how to tell him. What if it’s not what Derek’s expecting?

“It’s okay, Stiles. Remember, nice calm breaths. Look, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll totally wake you up later.” Derek tells him. A false promise. Even with Derek’s erased memory, he wouldn’t wake Stiles up just so he could leave. He composes himself so he won’t stay, won’t do something more stupid. He wipes his eyes and shakes his head, sitting up so Derek’s hands fall from him.

“N-No. You won’t wa-ake me up.” He gets off the bed for good measure. Derek looks sad and it tears him in two. He clumsily picks up his bag, shoving things back in before heading to the door. “I’ll see you t-tomorrow, after school. I’ll try and help you remember, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want that.” The older teen says instantly, and Stiles nods before he’s disappearing out the door. He makes it down the hall before bursting into tears and calling his father for help.

—

It’s around nine in the morning when Laura walks in. Derek’s already awake, a morning person, he’d come to realize. He’s got the picture frame in his hands and Laura’s wondering why he’s staring down at it like it’s a puzzle. It’s only the old photo of all of them that—Wait, no. That photo is taped to the wall now. She puts on a soft smile and goes around to the bed, peeking at the frame.

“Hey there, tiger.” She says quietly and Derek comes out of his intense gaze at the photo of him and Stiles. “New picture.”

“Yeah, Stiles was here yesterday. He brought it with him. We look…” Derek’s gaze is back.

“Like two best friends having a drink at a party?” Laura tries even though she’s well aware that’s not it. Stiles had told her not to tell Derek, thinking it might add to the stress of forgetting. _‘Can’t stress if you don’t know there’s something to remember’_ He’d said, and, _‘He’s freaked by me already. I don’t want to lose him completely’_ and her personal favorite _‘What if he’s not gay for me anymore?’_ Derek’s brows furrow and he rubs at his forehead like he’s getting a headache. “Derek?”

“Huh? Um, oh… Yeah, I guess.” He mutters and sets it back in its place. Laura stares at it a few moments before she seats herself in the chair next to the bed.

“I see you’ve got your jacket.” She smiles, hopes this is a good day for him.

“Smells like Stiles.” He says instantly then looks like he wishes he could take it back. Something rumbles in her chest; has Stiles told him?

“I bet… You’re talking about him a lot, what happened yesterday?”

“I think something was wrong.”

“Why?”

“He was crying.”

She sits up a little more, concerned. She beckons for him to go on. He sighs, “When he got here, I was coming back from almost shifting. There was a new nurse and she didn’t understand and—Whatever. He came in and he calmed me down. Bitched out the nurse, too. We talked a little and he was fine. Gave me my jacket which jerked a few tears, had me eat a cheeseburger for lunch, got out the pictures. He looked anxious, his hands were shaking and stuff. I took the photo from him.” He points his thumb back at the frame then continues, “He got weird after that. He fixed my collar and cried when I grabbed him to stay where he was. His ADHD was acting up. I could feel his hand shaking. Smiling at me saying I was tired, then stuttering when I asked him to lay with me.”

Laura took in the information in slowly, “Did he?”

“Yeah.” Derek nods, smiles a little. “And sure, I was weird, too. Remember that nurse that kept eye-raping me?” Laura nods and makes a face that shows she doesn’t like that particular nurse. “Yeah. I told her Stiles was my mate so she’d leave me alone. And she has, which is cool. But Stiles freaked out. He said he liked it and then he didn’t like it and then that it was okay.”

“But overall, it wasn’t a back reaction?”

“No, not really. He was just upset, with other things. Which made me upset. We talked some more and didn’t really get anywhere. I don’t know what to do with him.” He didn’t tell Laura about his weird heart flutters or the odd list of things that felt good and natural when Stiles was around.

He didn’t touch Scott or Danny when they came to visit besides a pat to the shoulder or whatever. Danny was really nice and Scott meant well, but came off a little clumsy with his words. But that was okay. He’s friendly with the girls, though. Allison would touch his hair and Lydia would lay her head on his shoulder as she showed him pictures. Jackson would just usually talk with him, play the occasion card game, reminding him of how he used to shuffle the cards, what games were his favorites. His uncle had a habit of tackling him every time he came to visit. That was just his personality, trying to liven things up, so he didn’t mind it. Peter didn’t do it on the week of the full moon, though. Out of respect.

Laura looks at him for a few long moments, like she’s deciding something and then nods. She sounds like she’s approaching the subject cautiously, “Do you like him, Derek?”

“Of course I do.” Derek says instantly, fiddling with his sleeve. There was that feeling again. He does like Stiles, no doubt. He’s so affectionate, caring. It’s like he loves Derek. Huh, he’s never thought about it that way before. It makes his stomach flip and buzz warmly.

“Okay,” Laura smiles happily and nods approvingly, “What’s the first word that comes to your mind when you think about him.”

“Clumsy.” Derek responds with a grin and Laura laughs softly.

“What else?”

“Affectionate.” He smiles fondly and Laura’s eyes brighten. She gestures for him to carry on and soon he’s saying anything that comes to him, “Excited. Odd. Caring. Jittery. Smart. Loving. F—” He stops himself, catching that he said ‘loving’. Laura’s beaming at him. His eyebrows knit together.

“I think you should tell him the words you told me. In fact…” She digs a pen and old receipt from her bag and shoves them into his hands, “Write them all down. Right now. And anything else you think of. Trust me, D. This is your big sister talking.”

He smiles at her, use of family and a nickname calming him. He does as she says and writes down the words, swirling the pen around when it falters on ink. He adds in ‘frustrating’ and ‘exhausting’ as terms of endearment, and then adds ‘endearing’ just because. He shows her the list when he hands back the pen and she nods encouragingly.

“Great. Good. Now… You just tell him those next time he visits. It’ll all be okay. I’m gonna go, my work shift starts soon. I’m gonna talk with your doctors. I’ll see you later, baby brother.” She gives him a kiss to the forehead and ruffles his hair before walking out. Derek likes when she visits.

—

The doctors come and talk with him, his therapist shows up half way through and takes him to his office a floor up. Derek usually doesn’t leave his room but it’s alright sometimes. Allison coaxes him out sometimes when she visits, gets allowed to bring him up to the roof for fresh air. He was reluctant at first, but she said _‘Wolves need fresh air. It’ll make you feel better.’_ and it did, so he couldn’t argue.

He isn’t fond of the elevator but takes it anyway, keeping a hard face until they’re off. The guy’s office has a plush couch and he lays down on it like always, the smell of hand sanitizer in the room and Stiles’ scent in his jacket swirling around him. He sighs. He wishes Stiles was here. He can ask for him, but in the time it takes the other teen to get there, his therapist would plague him with questions. Questions that he doesn’t know the answers to, can’t even begin to try and remember reasons, moments. He feels safe with Stiles. That’s it. That’s the thing he’s 102% sure of.

His therapist sits down and Derek twiddles his thumbs. The man writes something on the pad of paper, no doubt about his jacket or moving thumbs before speaking up. “So, Derek, how’s your… senses?”

“Which ones?”

“The human ones.”

He rolls his eyes, “They’re fine. My brain’s a little fuzzy, but when is it not?”

“You tell me.”

“It… No. Whatever. Look, I can’t spend much time here today, my best friend’s coming by.”

“Um,” Derek can hear the paper rustling and doesn’t even need to look to know the therapist is searching for his name. “Stiles, yes?”

“Wow, doc. I’m so glad you remembered.” His sarcasm shows and he doesn’t care. His therapist is silent for a few beats.

Then he says, “Are you remembering anything?”

_Stiles likes it when I touch his back. Stiles talks too much. He’s clumsy but endearing. He loves me. I think I could put him to sleep with my voice._ Wait—He loves him. Is that why he was there since day one? Stiles loves him. Got upset when he had to give the jacket back. How long had he been wearing it beforehand? “Stiles.”

“You remember Stiles?”

“He likes it when I touch his back. He likes…” There’s an almost memory coming at him. The smell of something that he thinks might feel like home and—“Blueberry pancakes.”

The man starts writing everything down quickly, sitting up in his seat. Derek doesn’t let his heart race, won’t allow it. His therapist is talking to him, “Think, Derek. Just think, concentrate.”

“No.” He says because that’s been exactly what he’s been doing since he woke up almost a year ago. And when he laid with Stiles, he started to calm down. When Stiles was gone, he was daydreaming about him. Laura encouraged him to do, not think. To write the first things that popped into his head, not to think about them. He can think about them after, but not while he’s letting it just flow.

“No?” The tone is incredulous and Derek can’t help but growl at him.

“As soon as I stopped thinking, I got something.” He says before shushing him, trying to go blank for another tidbit of Stiles, of his own life. Nothing comes, but he remembers something from yesterday that he’d missed before, “Stiles likes purple.”

“The color?”

“No, the elephant.” Derek sits up and rubs his forehead. “I wanna go back.”

“We can go back to your room, that’s fine.” The man is already standing up and Derek feels anger, frustration that he’s gotten something and can’t get it back again. Where was that place? The place with Stiles and the pancakes. Where were they? At his home? At Stiles’ home? His mind is racing and he shakes his head.

“No. Home. I want to go _home_.” And even though he doesn’t know where it is, he can get Peter’s number from the nurses’ station and call him. He’s suddenly wondering what home would be like. He remembers Peter telling him about home, that they’re waiting for him to get back. Laura says she cleaned his room for him, washed his dirty clothes while she sported a grimace that had a funny quirk up on her lips. He loves her. She’s his big sister.

“Derek, it’s not wise for you to—”

“I don’t care!” He yells because he’s wondering why he’s never been allowed home. Jackson says there’s woods by his house, a lot. That he helped him practice for lacrosse. He says his home is big and Derek helped build it. Jackson never lies to him, is painfully honest sometimes so he trusts him that it’s the truth. He stands up straight, “I want to go back. I wanna be in my own bed, I wanna be with my sister and my uncle and my friends. I wanna know what happened to me. And-And don’t say ‘an accident’ because I am _this_ close from leaving without talking to you ever again.”

The therapist doesn’t know what to think for a few moments, then is going around to his desk and phoning someone. Derek thinks he can handle the elevator on his own and walks from the room, pressing the down button. It doesn’t come fast enough and he groans, itching to move, to tell his friends and family he remembered something, even if small. They always ask and now he has something to give them. He goes for the stairs and down, the security guard’s expression giving that he didn’t expect his point of entry. He heads to his room and sees Stiles when he walks in.

He’s hanging up another art project, his and Jackson’s names on the bottom of the page. The kid turns and smiles, “Hey, man. Me and Jackson got an A, which is for awesome.”

Derek advances on him as he opens his mouth to continue, wrapping his arms around him tightly and squeezing. Stiles makes a noise that’s crossing between a squeak and the air being knocked out of him. But he lets it happen, isn’t about to push Derek away. “Dude, you okay? Look, I uh, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Blueberry pancakes.” The older teen tells him in a rough whisper. It takes Stiles a moment, but he actually convulses, making another, more urgent noise. Derek lets him go but holds his shoulders, can’t seem to let him go. “The color purple. You’re…” He takes a hand away to fish in his jacket pocket, pulls out the list, “Well, I lot of things: Excited, odd, caring. Like, you care a lot. Really. And uh, jittery. Smart. And funny and loving and frustrating and I mean it all as endearment because you’re that, too.”

He says it all in a rush and Stiles takes the slip from him, the header ‘THINGS STILES IS’, and then the list. His eyes stop on loving, where the L has been traced over at least to more times from its original pass. He’s being thrown through a loop. He was going to show up, tell Derek he’s in love with him, that they’re together. He was going to lay it all out but now this… this is different. Derek _remembering_. It seems like he doesn’t remember much, but it’s a start. “Derek, I… Wow. You-You think I’m frustrating?”

Derek doesn’t register that it’s a joke and shakes his head, “Don’t take it the wrong way, it’s just what came to my mind… Wait, that’s all you got from that? Because I said loving and I have this thing where I think you love me.”

Stiles goes still. Derek waits, searches his eyes.

Stiles won’t say a word but it looks like he’s straining, hand gripped tight in a fist around the paper. His eyes are scared as if Derek’s actually morphed into a wolf. He wish he knew what Derek was thinking.

Derek opens his mouth slowly, like he’s forming something, and Stiles yelps like he can’t hold anything back. He’s closing the gap between them, not a kiss like he would of thought. But a hug. And he’s fucking clinging, Derek’s hands on the backs of his thighs as he holds him up. They bump into a wall and slide down but Derek’s got him and thinks he loves him and it’s _so_ good enough for Stiles.

“I do.” He can hear his body betraying him, working up a good cry, one that will leave him shaking a half hour after the tears have dried. But he doesn’t care. “That’s what no one told you. That’s what I wanted to tell you today. I didn’t know you remembered. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Stiles.” There’s his concern seeping through. There are people, his doctors, coming down the hall for them. He can see them out the open door. He bets they look ridiculous on the floor like this. Stiles looks up at him, pulls away enough to see all of his face. Tears run down the younger teen’s cheeks and Derek rubs them away. “Don’t cry, okay? I don’t like when you cry.”

“I-I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry… It’s okay. I want you to explain. Explain it to me, one more time. All of it. Every single bit that you haven’t told me.” The doctors are rushing in, trying to ask him questions, but he’ll be damned if he moves his eyes from Stiles. “Shut up.” He growls to them and softens his look for the other teen, “Please, Stiles.”

“B-Before… _It_ happened, we were together. Happy. You… You loved me. You told me every day, every night.” He leans in because he can now, completely self-conscious in front of the adults in the room. He whispers, “I’ve waited for you. I love you, Derek.”

It’s so much a whisper that Stiles barely catches it, even from being so close. “…I love you, too.”

That’s when he starts to cry. That’s what he’s been dying to hear. Derek’s wrapping him up in his arms, trying to hold back tears himself as he says to the doctors “Call my uncle. I wanna see where I lost everything.”

—

Stiles makes Derek keep his eyes shut. And even though Derek doesn’t remember much about their relationship, mostly because Stiles wants to be alone with him when he explains, he holds onto the younger teen’s hips as they walk. He’s blind and everything smells like pine needles, fresh dirt and crisp air. He has on his shoes now, earth feeling good instead of hard floor. He didn’t realize how horrible those floors were until he was outside again.

Stiles’ father is there and they’ve only exchanged a few words but it’s okay. Sheriff Stilinski isn’t much of a talker. But Peter is and he dominates the conversations, filled with nervous energy. He’s given up trying to talk Derek out of this but it doesn’t mean he can’t be worried out of his mind. Stiles stops suddenly and Derek bumps into him, slides his arms around his waist to rest on his belly.

“Are we here?” He asks quietly, nuzzling his nose against the side of his head. He’s not scared of what he might see, he’s not scared about what he might feel. He’s scared about things not coming back when he opens his eyes and takes in where he almost died.

“W-We uh… Yeah.” He notices the burn marks slashed across some tree trunks and bits of charred and fallen trees scattered. He doesn’t want to imagine what it looks like all on fire, doesn’t want to imagine Derek in the middle of it all. When his mind starts to, he holds back a whimper and lays his forehead to Derek’s arm.

“Okay. I can do this. Stiles, you’re gonna get ‘em outta here if I… y’know, right?” Stiles’ hand slips into his and squeezes. He gives a squeeze in return before he feels him move away.

Stiles’ voice is strained, “Yeah, Derek. Of course.” He wipes a tear away from his eye as he backs up.

His father puts an arm around his shoulders and mouths that it’s okay. They know when Derek’s eyes open, even if he’s turned so his back is to them. His body tenses and Peter’s reaching out to comfort him, but Stiles grabs his hand and shakes his head. Derek had told him that he didn’t want anyone coming to his rescue unless he passes out or starts to shift.

Stiles has realized, after all this time, that ‘shift’ means something like ‘mood swing’. The doctors had to explain a little but they said it was best if they could wean Derek away from the werewolf stuff. Derek has PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He made up, _and started to believe_ , that he was a werewolf to deal with everything. Stiles was ready to pull him out of it once he remembered, like the exact second. He was ready to comfort him, do whatever he needed to get him back.

Derek takes cautious steps forward. He sees the ashes of trees, feels the terror bubbling in his stomach. He’s hit with a real memory. There’s so much red, so much heat. It was so quick. Everything flared up around him and he was hyperventilating before he realized that he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe he yelled, maybe he didn’t. Bits are still a blank and he thinks he’s okay with that. There’s nothing poking at him anymore. His head hurts but he keeps walking, eyes welling up with tears.

Memories are crashing at him; Lydia’s camera flash going off in his face as she laughs, Danny picking Jackson up over his shoulder, Stiles grabbing his hand. His smile is a thousand watt and it makes him smile and sob at the same time. Scott’s birthday party. Lydia doing a body shot off of Allison. Stiles warmth against him, lips pressing to his. Laura coming home from her first day of her art class and showing her that she’d drawn him. Peter cooking burgers and Stiles’ Jeep rumbling up the driveway.

He’s bombarded with memories of childhood, his mother singing to him when he was five while she makes fruit salad, his father letting him work on the car when he’s sixteen. Cartoons, pillow fights, meeting the odd boy who likes to run around in the woods. _My name is Stiles… No, I’m serious!_ Scott hanging out of a tree when he was fourteen and Derek telling him not to but being there to help carry him home after he falls. His own brothers and sisters running around, engaging him to play baseball. He’s the best runner. Laura baking something in the kitchen that smells like peanut butter cookies; his favorite. He can feel the heat of the oven when she checks them.

Flash forward and he can see the sky through the smoke of the fire around him. He’s choking.

Back again and oh, there’s Stiles, morning after he was first allowed to sleep over. They were at Stiles’ house and the smell of blueberry pancakes is in the air. Stiles was still sleepy but he managed to haul himself up and lean over the table, ignore his father watching them like a hawk. The kiss tastes like blueberries and maple syrup and Stiles’ tongue.

“Derek! _Derek?!_ ” Stiles’ voice is calling him and he didn’t even know he’d fallen down. There’s still things missing, he knows that, but his mind is such a blur with trying to look everything over, make sure it’s right. He reaches a hand up and the younger teen’s gripping it between both of his, leaning over him. “Derek, look at me. You okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“M’okay.” He whispers because he remembers now that he is Stiles’, _and your boyfriend gets concerned so you gotta let him know_. Peter’s right behind him, wide eyes and terrified. The Sheriff’s picking up his radio from his shoulder to call in for help. Derek shakes his head at him, “S’all right.”

“Derek.” One of Stiles’ hands is running through his hair and he moves his gaze back to him. “Your name is Derek Hale. You’re nineteen years old and you’re a human. There is no Beta to Alpha werewolf thing happening with you. You were caught in a f-forest fire, but you’re alive. You’re okay. You live with your sister Laura and your uncle Peter. You have a lot of friends who care a lot about you. You have a boyfriend and his name is Stiles. I’m Stiles, I love you.”

“I know.” Derek whispers and Peter completely breaks down, walking off so his cries aren’t too loud. Stiles is crying again and Sheriff Stilinski is smiling, looking proud. He points up at him, “He’s got the right idea.”

“God, Derek.” Stiles is hugging him and he sits up a little to make it easier. Stiles actually hauls him up the rest of the way and wraps his arms tighter around him, like he’s trying to keep the memories from escaping him again. “I’m your boyfriend, let me cry!”

“No.” The older teen tells him because that’s what he always says even though he will actually let Stiles cry it out. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He sniffles and helps Derek up, heart pounding. _Home_. He doesn’t even know which home he’s talking about but it’s fine. Everything’s fine. It feels surreal that he’s back and he’s never going to take a memory for granted again. And he’s buying a camera.

Derek lets go of him after giving him a smile and cradling the side of his face, heading over to where Peter’s shoulders are shaking as he tries to get himself under control. He wraps him in a hug immediately, mumbling that he’s okay, that they’re okay.

They get back in the car and when Derek steps through the door of his house, Laura tackles him and he smells peanut butter cookies.

—

Derek’s gotten filled in on things. Everyone came over one by one like they put themselves on a schedule, first Allison. She took him for a walk and showed him the garden she’d planted while she talked about things. He told her he remembered that she always smelt like sunflowers. There were a lot of hugs.

And then Scott, talking about almost everything. Anything Derek asked for him to talk about. They quizzed each other while Scott got together the movies that were Derek’s favorites. They watched and Derek remembered how much Scott could eat.

Lydia showed him bunches and bunches of photos, embarrassing moments of all of them, even herself. Derek said he remembered her and Allison at Scott’s party and she found the picture of her taking the body shot, with a deep blush tinting her cheeks. She gave him pictures of everyone, especially Stiles.

Jackson took him to the high school’s lacrosse field and they practiced like they used to. It was talking and crashing into each other and the graceful falling over tumble roll thing Jackson did had Derek laying on the field and laughing until he was crying.

Then, Danny. He invited him over and, after Danny’s mother checking his eyes with a light because she’s a concerned pediatrician, he brought him up to his room. Danny showed him videos they had taken over the years; parties, lacrosse games, baseball games, Derek’s graduation and then the party where Scott got very drunk and sang to him. He even showed videos of everyone pranking each other, and one where Danny had caught Derek and Stiles kissing. When Derek asked, Danny held out a disc with all the footage that was caught of him and Stiles kissing.

He called his mother and she said that she’d round up everyone and bring them up. He declined, saying he was just happy to remember, and then told her how much he liked when she sang to him. She sang him to sleep that night, phone pressed up against his ear.

Stiles comes over the next day, in the afternoon. Peter finishes up a round of Apples to Apples with him and leaves to ‘go do something’. Probably just giving them time alone. Stiles takes his hand and pulls him up to his room, closing the door behind them.

“How are you? Everything, like… Okay, or?” He asks with a light tone even though he’s begging to know how everything is, if Derek’s settling in okay. He’s already put up all the artwork he had in the hospital on his bedroom walls.

“I’m good. I’ve just been taking in the information, remembering things piece by piece. I saw us kiss a few days ago.” Derek tells him with a soft smile, it widening when Stiles blushes and fumbles over himself a little.

“Wha-Where?” He’s walking over to the bed, going to sit on the edge. Derek takes him by the hip and stops him. Stiles almost bites through his lip and takes a deep breath. Derek guesses he used to grab him there before. It feels right.

“Danny caught some on video a few times. He gave me a copy… You like jumping on me, I’ve noticed. You’re almost always half on top of me.” He says and gently pulls Stiles closer, “Do you think, if you think it’s okay, that you—”

Stiles climbs into his lap immediately, straddles his hips and sets his hands on his shoulders. Derek momentarily doesn’t know what to do, but he does like it. He ends up settling his hands on the younger teen’s hips again, since he likes that so much.

“Yeah, there we go.” He smiles and Stiles wets his lips, nodding. “You’ve waited a while for this, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” Stiles answers in a whisper. It’s almost too much to have him back like this. He breathes in deep, making promises to himself not to completely attack him. He doesn’t know exactly _how much_ Derek remembers.

“Will you tell me everything now? Start at the beginning.” He requests with a gentle grip tighten on his boyfriend’s hips. Stiles seats himself down fully and swallows hard.

“U-Uh… We met when we were younger. I was running around in the woods, got lost but didn’t care, and ended up running into you. Like, I really ran into you. I knocked you down and everything.” He chuckles softly through the haze of knowing he’s in Derek’s lap. He moves a hand to his neck just to feel his skin and rubs his thumb against his pulse point.

Derek’s breath comes a little more quick and he nods. He remembers that. He remembers Stiles still having the stutter and looking utterly terrified when he knocked him down. But he said it was okay and asked him if he wanted to come and play. “Jump forward. What was our first date like?”

“Heh.” Stiles starts and it causes Derek to smile.

“Was it that bad?” He asks and Stiles is licking his lips again, eyes on him but not focused, like he’s reliving it.

“No. It was great. You asked my Dad before you took me out. We’d already come out to him by then. You took me into the woods where we first met and we had dinner, which you made yourself. It was the best thing ever… I uh, I ended up knocking you down again.” Stiles explains, remembering that night vividly. It was a full moon and Derek had set up candles everywhere, a lantern hanging from a tree. Pillows and blankets around and homemade dinner still hot and waiting for them to open. They were having dessert when Stiles scooted closer, and then closer again. Derek had started the kiss but Stiles dominated it, pushing him back and getting on top of him.

Derek chuckles quietly because _God, he’s really cute_ and he just needs to ask, “Did we, uh…?”

“No, not then.” Stiles has a feeling what he’s going to ask next. He runs his hand up through his hair. He just can’t help himself. Derek leans back against it, slowly pulling Stiles closer because he really, really wants.

“When, Stiles?” He remembers parts of it; Stiles’ noises, Stiles’ lips all over his body. Having him under him, the body heat, the pleasure. He remembers the way Stiles’ cheeks were flushed and he was heaving in air, but still managed to breathe out a soft ‘I love you’. He wants to hear Stiles tell him about it, the way he remembers.

“It, i-it was after our fourth date. You walked me to the door and we-we kissed… My dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I asked if you wanted to come inside and you said you wanted to wait, to make it like, super special. And I kissed you again and convinced you… Lots of groping.” Stiles laughs and rests their foreheads together. He stares at Derek’s lips. “I said you could carry me to the bedroom and be as romantic as you wanted. You lifted me over your shoulder and carried me to my room, dropped me down on my bed.”

Derek squeezes his hips again and Stiles presses down into him. He’s half hard in his jeans and Stiles can feel it. He’s the same and his hand tightens in Derek’s hair, breathes out. Derek feels it puff across his lips and his mouth goes dry. He thinks he remembers what Stiles’ lips feel like but it’s not quite there. He wants to remember first hand. His voice is deeper when he speaks, “Come on, Stiles. Tell me what else.”

“Y-You… God, Derek. You turned down the lights and locked the door. Took off your jacket and slipped outta your shoes. You told me not to move. That you…” He drops his head to his boyfriend’s neck and pulls back gently on his hair, noses at his pulse point. He touches his lips there, notices Derek’s Adams apple bob as he swallows. “That you would undress me yourself. You touched everything. Every piece of skin I have. I was fumble-y and awkward but I tried to do the same thing.”

“I was nervous.” Derek tells him for the first time, “Like, I was pretty sure my hands were shaking. I didn’t wanna hurt you.”

Stiles suckles just under his ear and Derek’s breath hitches. “You didn’t hurt me. You were fantastic.”

“ _You_ were fantastic. You were… are perfect.” The older teen says hushed like it’s a secret only for Stiles and Stiles whimpers.

“ _Derek_.”

“Yeah, come here.”

It’s a sort of frenzy. Stiles picks his head up and there’s Derek’s hand, cradling the side of his face. He pushes forward and his heart soars, he thinks it’s going to beat through his chest at how hard it’s working because he’s kissing Derek again. Finally, after almost a year, he’s got him. All the desperation, all the doubt, nervousness and anxiety slip away like they were never there to begin with and Stiles moves his lips roughly, loving so much when Derek starts to do the same, starts to lick into his mouth.

“Stiles, keep going. Tell me, tell me.” Derek mumbles against his mouth and Stiles knows exactly what he wants to hear. He wants to tell him.

“You came over to the bed. Got between my legs.” He groans softly as his boyfriend’s tongue flicks against his and then squeaks because Derek’s hands are gone from his hip and face, now trailing leisurely up his thighs. “Y-You got my jeans open and then moved—Oh, _God_ —your hands under my shirt. Touched me all over, kissed my stomach.”

Derek’s hands slide up under his shirt, thumb rubs against the skin just below his bellybutton. Stiles moans and holds his face, caressing his thumbs against his cheekbones. Derek’s heart is thundering and he peeks his eyes open, met with the beautiful image of Stiles; cheeks pink and bordering on red and his eyes are closed with his lashes splayed delicately over his cheeks. He makes a soft, low noise. They pull apart and breathe in deep, a bit hard. Their foreheads rest together and he’s loving that Stiles is still telling him.

“You took your time and got me undressed, down to my underwear. You let me help you take your clothes off. I couldn’t even fucking think. Y’know, anything other than ‘do me’. It was just… Jesus, Derek.” Stiles is too hard for his jeans and rolls his hips down. Derek arches up before leaning in and attaching his mouth to his throat, licking along the tendon. Stiles’ head tips back to let him do whatever he wants. Every sensation he’s getting is pooling hotly in his lap and Derek’s intensifying all of it.

His hands are pulling at the hem of the taller teen’s shirt and before he fully realizes it, the fabric is gone and he’s being met with warm skin. Familiar skin. _Finally I get to touch you again_. And he does. All over, with his hands, his mouth. Derek moves something like the way he did when they were first together, because he’s missing a few things and he’s nervous. It’s been so long but he wants it, Stiles wants it, too.

He undoes the buttons on Stiles’ shirt, pushes it off his shoulders and feels the younger teen shudder. He pulls his head back to just look at him. His hands-on looking makes Stiles moan and he presses a soft kiss to his lips as a response

Derek gently lays him onto the bed, back against the cool sheets that don’t quite smell like Derek yet. He hasn’t been home long enough for the room to smell exactly like him yet. But it smells like outside and Derek’s climbing on top of him, slotting their hips together and it’s heaven for him, for both of them. Derek takes his hands and pins them to the mattress. Stiles laces their fingers together.

The kisses are soft and Derek’s words are right. His hands are shaking. Stiles leans his head back against the sheets as Derek licks at the hollow of his throat, “It’s okay. Whatever you do is okay. I promise, Derek.”

“Can I tell you I love you?”

Derek presses his hips down and grinds, Stiles’ pelvis arching up as he bites his lip. He gets out a stuttered, “O-Of course. Whenever you want.”

The older teen sucks on his Adams apple then nibbles at the underside of his chin. He presses a kiss to Stiles’ lower lip. “I love you, Stiles.”

It makes Derek’s heart flutter and his whole body shakes with the look on Stiles’ face. He knows now, remembers what that feeling is. _Being in love._ Derek kisses him full on the mouth and swallows his groan, moving his hands down to unbutton his jeans.

He gets memories back while they’re under the blankets, Stiles’ legs wrapped tight around his waist and they’re hands intertwined. All the memories are of him and Stiles. Intimate with whispered words and bare skin. Long moans and the feel of a pulse. Laughs and kisses and crisp, cool air. The way Stiles looks at night, shadows and dim light bringing out the slant of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, how curved and plump his lips are.

Stiles is moaning and it’s so good to his ears, to his whole body. He’s responding in harder snaps of the hips and breathing pleasured sounds into his ear, gasped out words between them. When Stiles comes he hears and feels it more than he sees it. Feels the arc Stiles’ back creates, gets to hold it in his palm. Here’s the loud, broken noise that slips from his open lips. Feels the tightening of all of his muscles and the convulse of his hips. He can hear Stiles’ heartbeat as his own climax reaches him and Stiles’ hands are in his hair. He’s saying something, encouraging him, loving him.

After their breathing has calmed and they’re wrapped up in the ruined sheets, they let their hands move over skin idly. It’s warm and they’re both sweaty and sticky but it doesn’t seem to really register. Stiles is pulled against Derek’s chest, giving little kisses to his collarbone. Derek is tracing spirals on his back.

It all makes sense now. He’s no werewolf. There’s no Beta to Alpha transition. He was in a terrible accident, but he’s okay. He’s alive. He has a family that loves him and friends that care deeply about him. He has a boyfriend named Stiles. Stiles likes the color purple. Stiles loves him.  Derek gets this odd fluttering thing when Stiles is around. Derek likes the color green. Derek loves him.

Derek’s making blueberry pancakes in the morning.


End file.
